LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap.:^!;.<i.., Copyright No. 

Shell...(2-6-'l W^- 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



WHEN ONE IS WITH 
NATURE 



BY/ 
JEANETTE CHALMERS 



» 



NEW YORK 
1897 



\ 






Copyright, 1897 
By JEANETTE CHALMERS 



Ube IknCcftecbocker t>tcs3, mew ^ovk 



CONTENTS. 



Just a Word 

Cycle of the Seasons 

The Months 

Evening 

Night .... 

A Walk at Sunrise . 

A Note of Summer . 

Autumn 

An Autumn Walk 

Up the Mountain in Late October 

November Mist . 

A Mountain View 

An Evening Walk 

A Fireside Musing . 

The Aurora 

Moonlight from Wide View Camp 

Ambition 



I 

5 
13 

25 
27 

32 
34 
35 
36 

38 
40 

41 
44 
45 
47 
49 
51 



iv Contents 






PAGE 


Introspection .... 


52 


Secret of Happiness . 


53 


Reflection 


55 


Scepticism ^ 


56 


The Impenetrable 


53 


A Boyhood Thought 


59 


Three Definitions of Love > 


61 


Love's Awakening 


62 


Christmas Thoughts. 


. 63 


Christ in the Garden 


66 


Twilight Reverie 


67 


Lines at Death of a Friend . 


70 


Roses 


71 


Stray Lines .... 


72 


Little Girl Watching for the Elec 




trig Light .... 


73 


Jack Frost's Dream . 


74 


Hepatica 


79 


Arbutus 


80 


An Adirondack Sunset . 


81 



WHEN ONE IS WITH NATURE. 



JUST A WORD. 

THESE simple expressions of thought- 
impulses were nearly all suggested 
while sojourning in a small prison village 
situated upon the southeastern exposure 
of a spur of the Adirondack Mountains. 

This is indeed a wonderful and most 
unusual locality. Perched half way up 
the mountain side is the little village 
dignified by the presence of a prison with 
huge gray walls, immense buildings of 
brick and stone, high smoke-stacks, and 
many of the modern things of life — such 
as electric lights, et cetera^ all unique in 
themselves because hardly outside the 
shade of the virgin forest. 

From almost any point thereabout one 



When One is with Nature 



can see spread out before him the valleys 
of the Champlain and the Saranac flanked 
and horizoned by great mountains ; to 
the south and west the Adirondacks, to 
the east the Green Mountains, at the foot 
of which nestle the blue waters of Lake 
Champlain and its contributing rivers. 

The view from the higher points is be- 
yond description ; so comprehensive that 
no artist can reduce it to canvas ; so 
marvellous in coloring, in light and shade, 
no tongue can portray it. Here nature 
seems entranced with her own beauty and 
softly smiles at her own reflections. 

One feels that never was the sun so 
softly bright, never were shadows so fan- 
tastic, never were clouds more billowy 
and illumined. In no spot ever before 
did nature seem to show so many moods 
and play so many pranks. Now bright 
and gay, or pensive and aesthetic, then 



Just a Word 3 

sombre, forbidding, yea, appalling. Never 
did we see sky arch in such unbroken 
span across the vision ; never did glorious 
sun and full-orbed moon sweep with such 
majestic movement from horizon to zenith, 
from zenith to horizon. Never were there 
more perfect colorings, more phantom 
mists, more diffusive radiance capable of 
more resplendent and softening effects. 
Never a purer, more exhilarating atmo- 
sphere ; never a spot where nature was 
more satisfying. 

When once one has wandered along the 
winding pathways over the hills and has 
instilled into his veins the fragrant aroma 
of the subtle odors of the woods ; when 
one has once basked in the soft rich sun- 
shine and been soothed to reposeful con- 
templation by the sweet breath of the 
mountains, he is already possessed by 
the charms of the place ; but to appreci- 



When One is with Nature 



ate it to the full one must know it well 
and see it long, for nature here has many- 
secrets and is chary of them. 

Then there comes the stirring of new 
sensations, and one feels he must express 
something of it or suffer, so these simple 
lines came to be and are but the imperfect 
voicings of an inspiring nature. 

Dear reader friend, I do not expect you 
to so entirely feel as the writer does about 
these little thoughts of a great, exquisite 
nature. 

If you have doubts, I ask you to go, see, 
and feel for youself. 

Jeanette Chalmers. 



THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 

THE glorious colorings of autumn had 
long since faded to duller shades and 
sombre hues. The dry leaves had ceased 
to rustle their crinkled sides in plaintive 
requiem o'er so much deadness all about, 
and had nestled quietly down to mother 
earth, save where the pallor-stricken beech 
leaves clung to chilled and sapless branches 
and in shivering whispers told of folly's 
hope. Mourning November no longer 
shed her tears o'er the many dead. 
Autumn had given up the struggle with 
the forces of the north wind and lay help- 
less in the arms of winter bound by her 
icy fetters. 

Kind nature had already compassion- 



When One is with Nature 



ately covered from view the gloomy evid- 
ences of her desolation with a white 
mantle of the purest snow; just now it 
lay fresh and sparkling upon every branch 
and twig of the naked forest trees and 
hung in long feathery pendants from the 
drooping evergreens. Every more aspir- 
ing weed and blade of grass was muffled 
in its woolly embrace. 

All was whiteness, except where the 
restless birches had shaken their bronzed 
limbs in jealous indignation at this rivalry 
of their own whiteness and stood like 
brown skeletons against the winter's sky. 

Spring had lingered so tardily in the lap 
of winter that one would judge her to be 
quite content with her frigid companion. 
Indeed nature seemed reluctant to make 
her great effort and bring forth the fra- 
grance of the year. The trees of the 
woods still exposed their anatomy of long 



The Cycle of the Seasons 



gray limbs and shook their skeleton fingers 
in empty air. The dull gray and russet 
browns of late autumn's painting lay from 
hilltop adown the valley's sweep, still un- 
broken, and there was upon the whole face 
of nature a melancholy hush, not even 
expectancy in it all. But one day a mes- 
senger came out of the south with hurry- 
ing speed and warming breath and touched 
with a magic wand of sunlight winter's 
icy fetters and they broke away and melted 
into tears of gentle sorrow o'er their cold 
unyielding selfishness : then all the land 
was redolent with warmth and vigor, and 
falling showers, chasing rivulets, bursting 
buds, springing grass, and tiny leaflets 
filled the earth with the sweet odors and 
sounds of spring. 

Now is the time when nature bends her 
broad back tot he mighty effort of turning 
back the tide of last year's dead and evolv- 



8 When One is with Nature 



ing from its lifeless forms the glorious 
heraldry of a new and fervent life. ' T is 
no wonder she groans and sighs at her 
task, for so profound is this sleep of nature 
that naught but the miracle of the seasons 
could arouse her. 

Now the time has come for anew effort 
of living, a time to shake off the lethargy 
which has so long possessed us and bound 
us to our habitual shortcomings ; then 
too we are touched to a sense of newness 
and freshness of life in feeling and in hope ; 
here is a suggestion of an immortallity of 
things, for we take up life's burdens and 
cares with renewed energy and zeal ; the 
cold scepticisms of winter give place to 
the trusting faiths of spring. 

This should be the most natural time to 
make new resolves and to plant our feet 
more firmly in the way of higher, nobler 
living, to leave behind us a deal of rub- 



The Cycle of the Seasons 



bish ; and we, as nature does, take on fresh 
garments, a vestment of truth, for truly 
this is the youth time of the year ; with all 
this budding life, with all this resurrection 
force apparent in all nature's forms, dull 
indeed is the soul that is not stirred to 
renewed activity and a consciousness of 
greater powers yet undeveloped. 

Spring had budded itself into the blos- 
soms of summer, and all its more gentle 
fervency of life had given place to that 
intenser life of summer's growth. Every- 
where from the teeming earth came a pro- 
digality of growth ; the summer sun had 
sent its searching rays down deep into 
mother earth's hidden resources, and from 
its warming touch the long grasses waved 
in lazy undulations upon the meadow 
lands. 

The trees had been clothed in rich gar- 
ments of shining green, and their dark 



10 When One is with Nature 



borders marked the horizon's reach all 
around. Flowers sprang up from every 
conceivable, unused place ; out on the 
great stretch of farmlands the whole at- 
mosphere was pulsating with fervid heat. 

The cattle lolled in shady nooks or 
lashed their rotund sides in lazy mono- 
tonous switches as they stood knee-deep in 
the running waters of some shady stream. 

The hum of myriad insect life filled the 
air with the busy songs of summer. All 
was life and growth and beauty. 

Down deep in earth's embowelled lab- 
oratories there was great activity, seething 
heat, and throbbing effort for the fruition 
of the season's hope, and all nature 
sweltered and sweat great drops of dew 
upon the brow of night from the strain 
and labor of her gigantic task ; but gas- 
eous vapors, streaming liquids in heaped 
up atoms were fast being shaped by her 



The Cycle of the Seasons ii 



untiring, accurate hand into perfect forms 
of growth and completed life, and then, 
with the fruitage and glory of a work well 
done, summer's passionate heat flamed 
and flickered itself out into the red and 
yellow tints of autumn. Instinct with her 
expiring life, the fading year applied to 
every living thing her last efforts in the 
alchemy of growth, in mellow fruit and 
bursting ear, and richly spread the em- 
blems of her passing life o'er all the earth 
in ripeness and in color. 

Everywhere was color, lying in long 
zones upon the hillsides, shooting in 
tongues of flame up the declivities and 
prodigally touching to every conceivable 
shade the tufts upon the more level sur- 
face of the tree tops ; every roadside 
weed and fence corner's shrub as well 
as the reaches of the forest land had felt 
and responded to the touch of the Titian 



12 When One is with Nature 



artist of the frost land who revels so in 
color. In every possible combination was 
this exquisite blending into perfect de- 
sign, making a great natural picture which 
lay spread out with the witchery of the 
day's autumnal light upon it. The amber 
haze so peculiar to this time of ripeness 
lay upon all the land, from the wide ex- 
panse of the yellow fields to the purple 
hills beyond, and myriad throated insects 
sang a lullaby to the sleepy year so soon 
to be put to sleep in winter's snowy 
couch. 
The year's perfection only pauses ere it 

sinks to rest. 
In sweet submission dies at the divine 

behest. 
That from its ashes there may rise a wider, 

richer life, 
Is all the object, all the destiny of this 

natural strife. 



THE MONTHS. 

THE year's calendar. 

HAIL ! O January ! First month of 
the year, 
Though austere and frigid you inspire no 

fear, 
For your strong arms are frozen in fetters 

so fast, 
That we laugh at your menace of cold 

bitter blast. 
Your cold heart warms not by night or by 

day, 
As over your kingdom you hold ice-born 

sway; 
You weep not, you scarce shed a tear. 
O'er the dead you have buried to nature 

so dear. 

13 



14 When One is with Nature 



You 're asleep in a shroud December has 

made, 
And are pale with the terror from heather 

to glade. 
Your sunshine is moonlight, your breath 

is the frost, 
Though sleeping you labor, your work is 

not lost. 
For while stern is your mission and hard 

seems your fate, 
'T is the new year's unfolding, 't is love, 

not hate. 

Now February's wild furies lash the white 

earth 
And pile high their columns in querulous 

mirth ; 
They moan and they roar in wild bitter 

rage. 
To break winter's heart is the battle they 

wage; 



The Months 15 



They send the snow flying in scattering 

flight, 
And wake up the sunshine and shorten 

the night ; 
They whisper the secret of a hope that is 

dear, 
And the waking earth pauses the sweet 

words to hear. 



Now March, with hoarse mutterings of 

deep roaring sound 
Breaks earth's icy fetters in which so long 

bound ; 
She wrestles without with the demons of 

cold. 
And nature's warm life she seeks to unfold, 
Till her heart is quite broken, exhausted 

her powers. 
And she sobs herself out in soft April 

showers. 



i6 When One is with Nature 



Capriciously they fall on the languishing 

earth, 
And the mother heart wakens to give 

spring her birth ; 
And this gentle maiden in sunshiny 

curls, 
Laughs at the rain clouds that round her 

do whirl ; 
She mocks at the cold winds, she climbs 

to the hills 
And sends down her victory in gurgling 

rills ; 
She breathes her warm breath, she waves 

her bright wand. 
And presto ! her promise is abroad in the 

land ; 
With green tokens she fringes both field 

and highway. 
Then smiles herself into the flowers of the 

May, 



The Months 17 



Who carpets the earth in verdure so green 

And plants the dear flowers where nothing 
was seen. 

She soothingly coaxes the warm winds 
from their lair, 

And stirs up the caldrons of earth's hid- 
den fire ; 

She wakens the germ to life that is new 

And nurses their young shoots with her 
plentiful dew ; 

She spreads out spring's mantle of leaf 
and young blade, 

And rests from her labors, for sweet June 
she has made. 

Yes, June with her roses white, yellow, 

and red 
Betokens the summer to which spring is 

wed. 
She sprinkles the meadows with yellow 

and white, 



When One is with Nature 



With heads gently nodding, with eyes 

that are bright ; 
She bids to her nuptials, in soft summer 

sighs, 
The sweet breath of the Southland and 

sunny blue skies ; 
She sounds sweet melodies, a charm to be 

heard, 
And utters her heart in the songs of the 

birds ; 
She plies well her mission, the long grasses 

grow. 
The trees spread their foliage, all nature 's 

aglow 
With the fervor of living, with a joy so 

dear. 
The bride of the springtime, the hope of 

the year. 

Yes, July, you have come with fast form- 
ing ear. 



The Months 19 



With heat so intense you make our hearts 

fear ; 
So crisp is your habit you scarce shed a 

tear, 
And we long for mist-ladened August, 

whose coming is near; 
But true to your privilege, you bake and 

you scorch. 
The sun is your splendor, the moon is 

your torch ; 
You welcome the rays of the fast-falling 

heat. 
The loll of the cattle, the sheep's plaintive 

bleat ; 
But deep in your nature there 's a feeling 

so kind 
That growth and perfection together you 

bind. 

O month of the vapors, you sweat for the 
year. 



20 When One is with Nature 



Your labor is welcome, your presence is 

dear; 
You prod the brown earth to herculean 

task, 
And there is nothing in effort you do not 

ask. 
You bathe the hot earth with dashes of 

rain. 
And you give out your life in the fulness 

of grain. 
You touch all that grows into symmetry 

fair, 
And show as your fruitage the rich and 

the rare. 
You writhe in the throes of the fast dy- 
ing year, 
And leave as a legacy the well ripened 

ear. 

September, September, in crimson and 
gold, 



The Months 21 



In purple and russet your beauties un- 
fold ; 

You smile and are genial just as of old, 

But deep in your heart there 's a secret so 
cold, 

For your warm breath is hiding the win- 
try frost, 

And your sunshine is the reverie of a 
summer lost. 

You lull our weak fancies to a slumbrous 
bed 

Of delusive day-dreaming till the year is 
quite dead, 

Then you hasten to cover the work of 
your hand 

With the leaves of the forest, with the 
sheaves of the land ; 

But the wind sighs your requiem, dead 
flowers tell the tale. 

Of a glory departed and your secrets un- 
veiled. 



22 When One is with Nature 



Flaming October in visions of red 

You shrink from the living, you hasten 
the dead. 

You rustle your dress in wantonly glee 

And sport with the winter that surely will 
be. 

In soft winds you whisper the tales of the 
past, 

And in hoarse-voiced mutterings you her- 
ald the blast 

That strips the great forest of their gar- 
ments of leaves, 

And makes the earth bare our spirits to 
grieve. 

You 're a dream, you 're a fancy, you 're 
love, you 're hate, 

You dash our warm hopes to a cold, bitter 
fate. 

Ah, weeping November, you come with 
your hosts 



The Months 23 



Of long-armed skeletons and fleeting white 

ghosts. 
Your tears are a river, your weeping a 

flood, 
Your sunshine is frozen and ice is your 

blood. 
We shiver and shrink from your gloomy 

embrace 
And wish for the time when you hide 

your dark face ; 
We look for your morrow with oncoming 

dread. 
For we know that your labor is a work 

with the dead. 

But here comes December in vestments 

of white 
That sparkle in splendor as the stars of 

her night. 
You cover waste places, you hide from 

our sight 



24 When One is with Nature 



The work of November with snow pure as 

the light. 
Your crisp, frosty fingers, fringed grasses 

and twigs, 
And bald-headed boulders are topped with 

white wigs. 
You adorn with white whii^kers kind 

nature's face, 
And carpet the house-tops for Santa Claus 

pace. 
You mirror the rivers, you glass the broad 

lakes, 
You lock up the earth till springtime 

awakes. 



EVENING. 

THE peace of evening lay upon the rest- 
ing day, and breathed a hush to all 
of nature's working forces. Like some 
spirit of the dreamland, waning twilight 
mantled all the earth in a visible calm. 

Ceased the din of labor, all was stillness 
save for the plaintive note of some sleepy 
bird, or the bursting song of some belated 
robin mingled with the brooklet's hesitat- 
ing voice of babbling sound. Sharply cut, 
the mountains tipped with defiant light ; 
blue the sky and bluer still the waters of 
the distant lake. Shifting shadows fled 
across the zones of phantom light and 
swept the hillsides into darkness. The 
scene was transcendent in beauty and 
25 



26 When One is with Nature 



clearness of definition, every object, shape, 
and form so clearly cut and yet so softly 
drawn. 'Twas the complacency of day 
serenely waiting to permit a last glimpse 
ere the sable curtain fell and shut out the 
light and in the night. 



NIGHT. 

ALL day long the sun had toiled up 
the brazen heavens, had hours since 
passed the zenith, and now, exhausted by 
its conflict with the legions of darkness, 
was just sinking to rest amidst a diffusion 
of flaming red, golden yellow, pale blue, 
and amber shades ; roseate and purple 
reflections rested upon the sharply cut 
spines of the mountains, and softened 
their outlines down to a blending in of 
earth and sky. Great beams of light 
flamed the horizon, billowy clouds in 
woolly garments sailed slowly by, basking 
and sporting themselves in all this flood 
of color light. 

Then came the reverie of the day, and 
27 



28 When One is with Nature 



twilight tones and shades crept stealthily 
up the vaulted sky and light and color 
faded and went out. 

But once more there is a lighting up, 
and fiery tongues lift the shadows only to 
flash out in the last expiring gasp of the 
dying day. 

The rustling spirits of the air, heavy 
with the grief of day's decline, sink among 
the leaves and grasses and weep them- 
selves to sleep, their teardrops falling like 
manna to the parched and thirsty earth. 

Already the sable wings of night are un- 
folding over all the land, and from under- 
neath dark shadowy forms steal out to take 
possession of the still and resting earth. 

Now is the stalking time for those 
phantom spirits of the night who, stand- 
ing at our bedsides, pour into our sleepy 
senses their dream tales, some of horror, 
some of joy. 



Night 29 

But haste, you dread spirits of the 
night, for penetrating the mirky scroll are 
the bright-eyed sentinels of the sun to 
watch until his coming on the morrow, 
and, in a twinkling, night half shuts her 
wings and hovers down to earth pierced 
and o'erflooded with millions of star-lit 
rays, as all of heaven's battalions — her 
glittering host of stars — march forth and 
take possession as safeguards of the night. 

Now only long dark shadows lie upon 
the earth, and the glory of the night 
has come in twinkling splendor and silent 
peace ; and yet its miracle is not complete, 
for to the eastward slowly a tremulous 
glimmer and a pale flood of light is thrown 
out upon the waiting night. Ah ! 't is the 
sun's armor-bearer, and soon the hillsides, 
plain, valley, and water's expanse are 
bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. 

Now the shadows hie and huddle into 



30 When One is with Nature 



shapeless patches, in dark angles and 
underneath the shade of trees, but dark- 
ness is no more. 

Fairy elves with moonbeam shuttles 
weave, in exquisite imagery, quaint and 
mystic patterns of moonshine laces which 
drape the earth in shimmering robes and 
make the delusion of the hour. 

Softly steals a subtle presence in upon 
our senses and we see a world calmly 
beautiful. It lies out upon the waters 
and is depicted in every shape and form of 
even common things. 

But what means this fiery herald in the 
east ? With glittering shafts of light he 
breaks the heart of night. Far in ad- 
vance of him he sends his messengers to 
tell, the conqueror of all darkness comes. 
Majestically he stands upon the horizon 
and pauses ere he sets the pace of time; 
the while the shadows play fantastic 



Night 31 

pranks, the moon gently bows herself out 
in the west, and the starry hosts one by 
one retire to rest, and behold, the god of 
light is here, in all the glory of his power. 
All the dark spirits haste away, night is 
no more, the glad earth dries her tears 
and briskly applies herself to the tasks of 
day. 



A WALK AT SUNRISE. 

THE snow-flecked mountains were 
taking a bath in the rosy beams 
of the just rising sun, the waters of the 
lake lapped lazily up to sleepily embrace 
his timid rays, the birds had begun their 
morning chatter, and all nature breathed 
long and deep in the expectancy of the 
busy day. 

Unless one has walked forth and seen 
and felt this hour of sunrise, he has never 
truly lived ; unless one has taken in the 
spicy odors of the morning and felt the 
tingling, in every nerve and fibre, of her 
inspiring breath, he has never been near 
to nature's heart or held close communion 
with her secret charms and changing 
life. 

32 



A Walk at Sunrise 33 



To rise on such a morning, after a re- 
freshing sleep, and look upon such a scene 
as this, to walk forth into the open coun- 
try through secluded paths, and be with 
nature and witness her unfolding in her 
most affectionate mood and ready to 
bestow upon us the blessings of an advanc. 
ing day — for such contact we cannot but 
be better. Breathe long and deep then, 
and let nature's pure air, rid of all unclean- 
ness of heart, garnish anew its chambers 
and let in the flood light of grander, truer 
living and renewed hope. Let the past 
mean only resolution for the future and 
the rising of the day mean the rising of a 
new and calmer life within. 



A NOTE OF SUMMER. 

THE heaving bosom of the meadows 
was yellowed with nodding butter- 
cups and flecked with modest white dai- 
sies ; the red-jacketed strawberries half 
hid their scarlet sides underneath the curl- 
ing leaves ; the little brook sang merrily 
as it leaped from pebble to pebble or reck- 
lessly threw itself over some broken rock 
or prostrate tree ; the breathings of the 
summer's panting life rustled the silken 
grasses, and sent broadcast over all the 
fields a spicy fragrance and delicious 
smells. 

The meadow-lark's cheery note, the 
woodpecker's reveille, and the whir of the 
grasshoppers joined in a universal chorus 
of midsummer sounds. 



34 



AUTUMN 

T 



HE purpling hills, the dreamy haze, 
The golden ears of the shocked-up 



maize. 
The yellow pumpkins, the reddening 

leaves. 
The wealth of fruitage, the ripened 

sheaves. 
Are autumn's tribute to the passing 

year, 
And its sighing whispers tell of winter 

near. 



35 



AN AUTUMN WALK. 

WHEN frosts have robbed the earth 
of green, 
And only duller shades of gray and brown 

are seen ; 
When naked forests stretch wide their 

arms, 
And floating hazes lie on distant farms ; 
When glinting sunshine rests upon the 

tree-tipped hills. 
And silence brings the sound of distant 

rills ; 
When over all the fleece of autumn's 

halo lies. 
And soft reflections tint the flecking 

skies ; 
I love to wander o'er the hills so strong 

and high, 

36 



An Autumn Walk 37 



O'er creaking mosses crisp and dry ; 

To look upon the patterned ground, 

In shaded grays, by crimson bound, 

In dainty tufts of furzy things, 

In all the shades that autumn brings ; 

Here patching all with lichens gray. 

There shading off with colors gay, 

A natural etching at our feet, 

Where tones and colors kindly meet. 

I love to ponder on this dreamy wait 

Of nature's lingering ere she shuts the gate 

And closes all her heart to growing things, 

And life and warmth take hasty wings. 

My heart then sits in waiting too. 

And sees itself by vision new. 

It sees its deadness, its sombre hues. 

Where once a fresh green promise grew, 

But fruitless died for want of soil — 

Went out because there was no oil ; 

In autumn deadness there to lie, 

A fringe of memory my soul to try. 



UP THE MOUNTAIN SIDE IN 
LATE OCTOBER. 

THROUGH wooded paths we walked 
that day, 

Where white-trunked birches flanked the 
way, 

And skirted spruces greened the brush ; 

Where leaping brooklet passed with hur- 
ried rush. 

And spotted dogwood spread their arms. 

And fragrant balsams exhaled their 
charms ; 

Where dripping mosses clung to rocks of 
gray. 

And feathery ferns still held their sway ; 

O'er heaped-up reefs of rustling leaves, 

O'er checkered paths the sunlight weaves, 
38 



up the Mountain Side 39 



To where with climb and hurried pace, 
We come to bald and open space ; 
Where lifted high in open air, 
The way is clear to vision fair. 
What rapture fills the resting eye ! 
From rolling uplands to mountains high, 
From heathered plains to vaulted sky, 
From river's glint to lake's broad blue, 
The softened beauty comes to view. 
In swaying arms of forest gray, 
And tufted reds and yellows gay, 
O'er purpling hills and browning fields. 
The autumn miracle her triumph wields, 
A mystic dimness shields her hand 
Till all is changed with magic wand. 
Once more she smiles in rosy light 
Before she hides the earth from sight ; 
With warming breath she lulls our fears, 
And shows her heart in gentle tears ; 
Then softly fading with the year. 
We wake to find the winter here. 



NOVEMBER MIST. 

UPON the uplands brown and gray, 
On all expanse it softly lay ; 
It wreathed the hills in misty thrall, 
Half hid the mountains in fleecy pall ; 
It swept the valley from our sight 
And robbed the day of natural light. 
In phantom forms it slowly rolled 
And all the earth sought to enfold ; 
But, November mist, your fate is told 
By to-morrow's sun or to-morrow's cold. 



40 



A MOUNTAIN VIEW. 

JUST as you come around the angle of 
the roadway which turns on the 
uppermost shoulder of the mountain, the 
whole of a wonderful winter's scene is 
abruptly brought to view. Sweeping 
down and away from where you stand 
the mountain gradually sinks to the line 
of the valley, hundreds of feet below, and 
which is skirted on all sides by hills and 
mountains of the most varied and pict- 
uresque forms. Series after series of 
cone-hke tops stand in multiple array, 
flanked by huge giant peaks clad with 
and capped by eternal snow. 

To the southward are family groups 
wrapped in all the shades and hues that 
41 



42 When One is with Nature 

blue, gray, and purple light can clothe 
them ; little and big, humble and majestic, 
they stand like huge bastions and colon- 
nades to this great temple of Nature's 
handiwork. Snow-clad and forest-clad, 
they stand resplendent and dignified, yet 
calmly beautiful in symmetry of form. 

To the south sweep the rolling surfaces 
of the valley's rise, patched and checkered 
with fields and squares of man's con- 
trivance. 

To the east the waters of the blue- 
bosomed lake sleep quietly at the feet of 
another group of majestic mountains, that, 
in the witchery of their outline and white- 
ness of surface, forms fantastically turreted 
castles and fairy shapes dimly resplendent 
in a halo of reflected light and drifting 
haze. 

Darkly wooded islands, hooded 
points, rolling uplands, and evergreen 



A Mountain View 43 



forests claim the eye, while swath-like 
roads and winding rivers mark the 
way. Changing lights come and go and 
shapely shadows race themselves across 
the plain, now dark, now light. That ever 
shifting scene below, the kindly clouded 
sky above, the rosy haze between, the 
snowy whiteness, and the dreamy silence 
unite in one matchless tribute to this one 
of nature's supremest efforts in her uni- 
verse of art, which to see is to be inspired, 
which to attempt to portray by word or 
brush is to mock. 



AN EVENING WALK. 

IN dreamy grandeur the motrntains sleep, 
In sparkling tears the grasses weep, 
The petaled glory of the blossoming 

earth, 
The peaceful calm of evening's birth, 
The skirted greenness of wooded lands, 
The distant waters in shimmering strands, 
The sun-claimed hills, the flushing west. 
The mystic wideness, and the perfect rest. 



44 



A FIRESIDE MUSING. 

WHEN north winds whistle o'er the 
brake 
And scudding dry leaves mark their wake, 
When hardening earth and threatening 

sky- 
Make nature's heart so cold and dry, 
When snowy tears make hasty flight 
And darkening clouds bring on the night. 
When frosty sprights our noses wring 
And hasty steps us homeward bring, 
What hearty welcome, what glowing 

cheer 
From lighted grate and faces dear, 
Encircling all its glowing heat ! 
With outstretched hands and spreading 

feet : 

45 



46 When One is with Nature 



Here hush and reverie sweetly meet, 

And dreamy rest our senses greet, 

We gaze upon the glowing pile ; 

And Fancy spreads her wing meanwhile, 

Paints Titian scenes in living red, 

Shades off from yellow flame to ashes dead 

Till glowing forms our vision eakes 

And color landscapes freely makes. 

In impish glee the embers dance 

And fiery steeds around them prance, 

A glittering host of firefly things 

With burnished heads and golden wings 

Then paling to a tumbled heap 

From darkened embers slyly peep — 

But then, we dream and fall asleep. 



THE AURORA. 

NIGHT had cast her shadow o'er all 
the earth and all those grand phe- 
nomena, incident to northern latitudes, of 
light and electric display were in their 
glory. Long lambent tongues of timor- 
ous light flamed quickly up the northern 
sky and washed the horrizon out in liquid 
fire, rising and sinking back, then swiftly 
ascending towards the zenith, they threw 
a weird halo o'er the whole scene. 

To the west and south there were 
blinding flashes of light which leaped 
up, from one to another of the heavily 
charged clouds, then quickly flashed them- 
selves out into flickering phantoms of re- 
flected light. 

47 



48 When One is with Nature 



As one looked upon it, it seemed as if 
the whole earth were attacked by the 
imps of fire and darkness and were intent 
upon its destruction, instead of only a 
play spell of the elements, and right 
lively they seemed as they frisked with 
the clouds and tantalized the stars into 
envious pallor. 



MOONLIGHT FROM WIDE VIEW 
CAMP. 

THIS was an ideal night, and from the 
encampment, which was on the 
northwest side of the valley, just out 
upon the brow of the mountain at its 
most commanding point, the whole sweep 
of the mountain-girt valley was in view, 
and a more enchanting and comprehen- 
sive one could scarcely be imagined. 

The moon had some hours since swung 
itself clear of the horizon, and was having 
the whole arc of the heavens to itself, 
where it hung midway above the valley in 
all the pensiveness of its softened splendor. 
It is rare indeed that a point of view can 
be had that admits of so extended a view 
of the moon's career through the heavens, 
as could be seen from the point where the 
camp was situated; nothing obstructed the 
4 49 



50 When One is with Nature 



view from horizon to zenith, from zenith 
to horizon, one perfect span of scintil- 
lating blue, with only an occasional starry 
point and the great round moon. 

At their feet long stealthy shadows 
crept out to reconnoitre the fields of light 
beyond, but elsewhere all was blanketed 
with that silvery transmitted light. The 
mountains and hills were submerged, the 
trees and shrubs were dipped in it. 

Away to the east a dozen of miles, 
upon the surface of the lake it spread 
great paths and zones of light which 
tipped the restless waters with diamond 
points, a highway for fairy feet. In glint 
and shadow darkly outlined islands and 
wooded shores in this illusive light made 
the water's expanse look, not a highway 
for commerce or the home of fishes, but 
an enchanted oasis of light in the great 
desert of forest land. 



AMBITION. 

UNDUE ambition is the bane of life, 
A weary war, an endless bitter strife, 
An aimless reaching into space, 
A vision that has cursed our race. 
It steals our joys, and robs of cheer, 
Makes life unhappy, and costs too dear. 



51 



INTROSPECTION. 

IT has been well said that men cannot 
be judged so well by their completed 
as by their uncompleted work. You 
may not judge so well of an artist's con- 
ception and skill by his finished pictures 
as by his unfinished ones. 

Down deep in the chambers of every 
man's heart there lie, hidden by the cob- 
webs of the past, the whitened skeletons 
of many an unrealized ambition, many a 
buried hope, which were either slain by 
his own slothfulness or whose Hfe has been 
crushed out by the iron hand of circum- 
stances. 

In the human heart are many graves, 
and could we but read the inscriptions 
upon their head-stones, we should know 
the secret of many a life's failure, of many 
a promise unfulfilled. 



52 



SECRET OF HAPPINESS. 

HE who would enjoy the truest and 
most lasting happiness upon this 
earth should give heed to the one uni- 
versal law of compensation that substance 
exhausted is substance lost. 

The most delicious repast becomes 
nauseous from satiety ; there are bitter 
dregs in every cup that is drained too 
dry ; there is always disappointment and 
regret in the overdone, even the flower is 
sweeter and more fragrant just as it buds 
into blossom than when its widely ex- 
panded petals are ready to let go their 
hold and fall to earth. 

It is the stopping just outside the line 
enough that makes continuous and com- 

53 



54 When One is with Nature 



pleter happiness and keeps burning upon 
the altars of our lives the incense of a 
lively satisfaction. 

So imperceptible is the line between 
perfection and decay that one had best 
eat his fruit a little less ripe than to risk 
the danger of the poison that lurks in 
over-ripeness. 



L 



REFLECTION. 

ET him to whom the cares and sor- 
rows of this world seem too much 
to endure, remember that he is but a part 
of one great whole, and all these things 
are but phases of a grand system which, 
when it has evolved its own, will reveal 
the beauties of a perfect fitting in of pur- 
pose to accomplishment, in which he holds 
the largest share who has suffered most. 



55 



SCEPTICISM. 

THE man who consciously attempts to 
pull down the structure of human 
faith which the labor and beliefs of many 
centuries have built up, and which ex- 
perience has demonstrated to have in 
them the power of truth, and erects no 
other in its stead or offers no better sub- 
stitute, is guilty of a heinous offence 
against God, man, and himself. Such a 
man must be girt about by his own 
opinions to the exclusion of others, and 
enormously puffed up by his self-know- 
ledge. Such a man must necessarily de- 
stroy the faiths and hopes of many, and 
would soon people the earth with sorrow. 
Pause long before you attempt to dislodge 
56 



Scepticism 57 



one single stone of the structure which 
the blood of many has flowed to erect, 
and around which are clinging the tendrils 
of human love, human devotion, and hu- 
man faith. He who does this smites his 
fellow-man and hates truth. 



THE IMPENETRABLE. 

THE things which hold for us the great- 
est interest are not the things we 
know the most about ; they are rather 
those in which there is revealed only suf- 
ficient to enkindle the desire to know 
more. 

That ever enticing just beyond without 
our touch, that mysterious illusive future, 
that veil of the unknown region against 
which all our darts of theory are hurled, 
and which, though never destroyed, is 
sometimes rent at the outer edge, and 
through which come glimpses of realizable 
possibilities to view ; but that inner veil 
which hides from view the secret of life 
itself, no shaft can pierce, no battle-axe of 
investigation hew away, and there must 
ever remain until lifted by the hand of 
God, and that will mean eternity. 



58 



A THOUGHT. 

WE cannot afford to ignore our in- 
dividuality of constitution or per- 
sonality in the estimate of our fitness 
for this or that, and our life-work must be 
chosen only after we have carefully 
weighed our capacities and our weak- 
nesses. 

We never need hope by education or 
culture to do away with our nature, for 
it is only those stronger souls that are 
able to stand up under the strain of being 
what they are not. If we should take 
some delicate flower from its hot-house 
environment and expose it to a northern 
blast, thinking to toughen it to a longer 
ruddier life, we would only destroy it ; its 

59 



6o When One is with Nature 



beauty and symmetry would become a 
shrivelled tissue of discolored pulp, and 
whatever mission of sweetness or hope it 
may have had for some human heart, ex- 
quisitely in sympathy with nature in her 
mood of flowers, lost altogether. 



THREE DEFINITIONS OF LOVE. 

LOVE is the blossoming of the soul's 
elementary growth preparatory to 
the fruitage of its grandest, truest life. 

Love is the noblest impulse of the hu- 
man heart that sweetly yields itself unre- 
servedly to the desire to be happy and 
make its object so. 

Love is the complete yielding of one's 
self to the appreciation of one's affinities in 
another, and has its source in that strong- 
est element of the soul to which all other 
elements and impulses of that soul are 
subordinated, the overmastering apprecia- 
tion of the Divine as manifested in some 
feature of His works. 



6i 



LOVE'S AWAKENING. 

FROM 'neath the scarred and seamed 
surface of the heart, 
A new and fuller life comes bursting 
through 
A stirring of the depth of soul so long its 
unknown part, 
A sweet awakening to a truer life it 
never knew. 
A soul's response to soul's desire for nobler 

things to do, 
A heavenly blessing falling like the fra- 
grant dew. 



62 



CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS. 

IN a land of Orient splendor, where the 
stars are wondrous bright, 
Long ago there came the angels to the 

shepherds in the night ; 
Wafted from the heavenly chorus over 

Bethlehem's sleeping hills, 
Came those rhythmic angel voices through 

the night air calm and still. 
Then again in joyous anthems from the 

vaulted starlit sky, 
Came the welcome, gladd'ning tidings that 

no more need man to die. 
Peace on earth in floating whispers, peace 

on earth, in glad triumphant song ; 
Good-will, good-will, came the voicings of 

that joyous angel throng. 
63 



64 When One is with Nature 



Peace on earth, good-will to men all the 

mighty chorus sings, 
And the echo of that chorus down the 

centuries still it rings. 

In the east a star ariseth blessing all it 

shines upon, 
Guiding westward humble wfse men to the 

place of Bethlehem ; 
Still westward led the star of promise, 

with its shimmering crystal light, 
O'er the Bethlehem stable pausing at the 

peaceful holy sight, 
Past the palace led their footsteps to that 

stable's lowly door, 
Where within the young Child lieth down 

upon the earthen floor. 
Bringing sweet and savory spices, bringing 

frankincense and gold 
To fulfil the law's tradition by the prophets 

long foretold ; 



Christmas Thoughts 65 



Bringing in their hearts a welcome to the 

humble Saviour Child, 
Blessing in exalted fervor whom the Jews 

at last reviled. 

Though the years have passed in number 

since the gladness of that night, 
Still we hear the angel voices singing at 

the goodly earthly sight, 
As mankind in happy greeting and with 

faces sweetly bright. 
Sing again their Christmas carols and the 

little ones delight. 
Peace on earth still is falling from the 

starlit vaulted sky ; 
Good-will, it is ever coming to the seekers 

who upon His words rely. 



CHRIST IN THE GARDEN. 

HANDS in touch with ours do meet, 
As in submission divinely sweet. 
To the Father's will He humbly bows ; 
With breaking heart and sweating brows, 
In agony and pain so great 
He pleads humanity's fate ; 
And meekly yields to death by those who 

hate, 
While all the universe doth pause and 

wait. 
Till this supremest act of love is done, 
Man 's redeemed, and the victory won. 



66 



A TWILIGHT REVERIE. 

WHEN pales the last sunlit ray, 
And twilight falls upon the weary- 
day ; 
When filmy shades of softest gray 
Creep o'er the earth and steal the light 

away ; 
When vagueness holds uncertain sway, 
And ghostly forms our sight betray ; 
When darkening shadows bound the sight, 
And fading light brings on the night ; 
When indistinctness makes marvellous 

shapes, 
And all forms our fancy in mystery drapes ; 
When action dies and reverie wakes, 
And of earth a phantom kingdom makes, 
A peopled host of half-formed thought 
In grotesque figures dimly wrought. 
67 



68 When One is with Nature 



The legions of the past troop by, 

In serried ranks these ghosts I spy, 

Accoutred each to memory true 

They pass and pass in strange review. 

Some forms it seems I never knew — 

But from the past they surely grew. 

Pass on, pass on in silent calm. 

Let time apply her healing balm, 

Till only, in that ghostly file, 

I see the best freed from all guile, 

A lesson dear of right secured, 

Of faith renewed by trials endured. 

But now these forms recede, they dimmer 

grow, 
Their outlines fade, ah ! now they go 
And leave behind a softened glow, 
A haloed radiance o'er all the past, doth 

gently flow. 
I see its need to growth and form. 
To have made me strong to meet the 

storm. 



A Twilight Reverie 69 



To soul's uplifting, to heart made warm 
For fellow-man, for nature's charm ; 
A kindling force to larger life 
To broader vision and nobler strife. 
Ah ! changeless past, 't is better so, 
Though why, with downcast eyes I may 

not know. 
But when mine eyes in trust I raise, 
Behold ! the wisdom of Thy ways. 

dearest Father, Power Divine, 
Though these Thy ways they are not mine. 
A restful calm steals o'er my sense. 

My thought is held in sweet suspense. 
With half-closed eyes I see a light, 

1 rouse to find it really night. 



LINES AT DEATH OF A FRIEND. 

AS breaks the dawn upon the night's 
decline, 

Her spirit broke the bonds of clay, 

And shone with sweetness all divine, 

Swept the curtained barrier from her soul 
away. 

Emitting through the rifts an immortal 
ray; 

And thus her night was radiant day. 

As dies the last sweet chord from harps 
atune. 

As fades the incense of the sweetest flow- 
ers of June, 

As dies the dew upon the summer grasses* 
blade, 

So went her spirit — so the heavenly sum- 
mons she obeyed. 



70 



ROSES. 

ROSES, roses fragrant and red, 
Roses, roses so faded and dead, 
Roses, roses, your sweetness has fled. 
Fallen your petals to slumber's bed ; 
You live only where fancy has led, 
And your sweetness is now to memory 
wed. 



71 



STRAY LINES. 

WHEN skies were blue and-tints were 
warm, 
Came stealthy winter in whitened mask to 

rob of charm, 
But skies resolved to bluer grow and tints 

to have a warmer hue, 
And sunlight bathe with brighter view and 
fill the earth with beauty new. 



72 



A LITTLE GIRL WATCHING FOR 
THE ELECTRIC LIGHT. 

WHEN the evening shadows fall 
And the darkness covers all, 
Then I watch your coming bright 
Twinkle, twinkle, little light. 
You are such a pretty sight 
Making daytime out of night. 
If you did not twinkle so 
We should never, never know 
How and where the people go. 



73 



JACK FROST'S DREAM. 

FAR away in the Northland on a cold 
starry night, 
Jack Frost lay bound in fetterVso icy and 

tight 
That, freezing and snapping with long 

pent-up greed. 
He longed to be free that on he might 

speed 
To the land of the south, with its fair 

sunny skies. 
With the light of the summer still in its 

dark eyes. 
So restive and sullen into dreaming he 

fell, 
And this is his dream to you children I 

tell. 

74 



Jack Frost's Dream 75 



I* ve waited so long for this frisk of mine, 
That if it comes not quickly I '11 surely 

decline ; 
My legs are quite frozen to shape that is 

strong, 
My white hair is quite grown, my whiskers 

are long. 
I feel all the strength of that maddening 

glee 
That attack on the warm air always gives 

me. 
How I '11 pelt them with sharp falling 

hail, 
How my cold breath will cause their faces 

to pale. 
As I pile high my fortresses in huge 

columns white 
And bury their homes and their country 

far out of sight. 
How my snow-flake army will march to 

victory new 



76 When One is with Nature 



And lay my white carpet where green 
grasses grew. 

How I '11 stop the glad waters that on- 
ward do flow, 

And chill all the air wherever I go. 

I '11 establish my kingdom in all their 
green land, 

And wither their gardens witli my cold 
icy hand. 

I '11 rule with a spirit of keen searching 
frost. 

And he who dares brave me will surely be 
lost. 

For I *11 freeze him to silence out on the 
wide plain, 

Or smite him to death with a cold freez- 
ing rain. 

Obedience I '11 have in all this wide 
realm, 

And the slightest resistance I '11 soon over- 
whelm. 



Jack Frost's Dream T^J 



I *11 hold down the warmth with my frost- 
forged laws, 
With my icy long fingers I '11 strangle the 

thaws. 
Yes, with firm hand I '11 hold my vassals 

in thrall, 
And the brown earth will crack at the 

sound of my call. 
But I '11 soon come to tire of this dull 

sleepy life 
And fly back to the Northland to help in 

that strife. 
I '11 hurry away from the land of the 

South 
And leave it to perish by heat and by 

drought. 
I '11 forsake all my legions, a serried white 

host. 
To sink into earth like an army of ghosts. 
With many a sigh I '11 hie me away, 
And not come back for many a day. 



78 When One is with Nature 



But, hark ! I must hasten or I '11 be o'er- 

took 
By the rush of that river, or the flow of 

that brook. 
For loosened my hold on the reins of the 

flood, 
I feel a warm breath melting my blood. 
Alas, I 'm too late for the winds hold me 

fast, 
I 'm dying of south wind, and my day it 

is past. 



HEPATIC A. 

THE spring was tardy, the fields were 
gray, 
The flowers they came not till the May — 
No, that *s not really true, 
For I knew where some grew. 
By a lonely pathway, in meadows new. 
The sweet-faced Hepatica came pinking 
into view. 



79 



ARBUTUS. 

WHERE the poplars are greening 
And the crimpy mosses grow, 
Near to where the brook is singing 

At escape from ice and snow ; 
Past the pussy willows brushing, 
In a frothy, hasty rushing, 
To the river's onward flow — 
*T is there I love to often go. 
All the woodsy odors quaffing 
With the patchy sunlight laughing. 
As I search for spring's chary token 
In a promise never broken. 
In its smiling pink perfection, 
Seeks to hide from our detection, 
Slyly waits to peep up at us, 
Sweet and trailing, dear Arbutus. 



80 



AN ADIRONDACK SUNSET. 

THE daylight pales, the colors flush 
across the sky, 
The mountains smile, the uplands blush 
the sun's good-by. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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